The Gargoyle
by EterNite
Summary: Harry Potter willingly relinquished his mortality… but was he ever truly mortal? Buried secrets will emerge. Sent back in time to the year 1948, Harry will have the chance to live as his true self, and find love on the way. Timetravel SLASH HPLV HPTR
1. Khaos:Prologue

**Please note: this will not be a Founder's time fic. The prologue is the only part of the story that is set in the Founders time. This ****will **** be a time travel fic, but not in the same time frame.**

**Fixed Version**

**Summary: Harry Potter willingly relinquished his mortality… but was he ever truly mortal? Buried secrets will emerge. Sent back in time to the year 1948, Harry will have the chance to live as his true self, and find love on the way. Timetravel, slash.**

**Pairings: TMR/HP (HP/LV) , RL/SB**

**Please note: Parseltongue is **_**"**__italics"_

**Gargoyle**

**Prologue: **

In the year 988 A.D, young children gifted with magical powers were hunted down and killed by the order of the church. These children, called wizards by their kind, would form small groups of refugees with other wizards who lived in the same area. Our story takes us to one such group of refugees, four teenagers from the town of Hogsmeade who had just been discovered. The quartet had discovered their powers at a young age and banded together to become stronger. Unfortunately, no matter how much research they did, the group could find no solid information on how to manipulate magic, and had been caught in a foolish attempt to discover these secrets themselves. Magic, after all, was forbidden in their time, and no books had been written, no knowledge imparted, in order to gain the control over magic that the wizards lacked. Many groups had tried, but none had so far succeeded.

That was how Salazar Slytherin, the son of Scotland's High Priest, born with the curse of snake-speak; Godric Gryffindor, first-born son of Hogsmeade's ruling lord; Rowena Ravenclaw, a self-educated peasant with a love for knowledge and the grace of a queen; and Helga Hufflepuff, Godric's illegitimate half sister with an unrelenting dedication; ended up standing in the most beautiful place they had ever seen. While running from a mob of townspeople, they had discovered that none of the normal civilians could approach the majestic mountain top on which they stood.

The four walked forward, eyeing the carved gargoyle which was placed rather inconspicuously in the center of the field.

_"What is it?" _The other three stared at Salazar for a moment, before Rowena quickly pulled a piece of parchment out of her bag, handing it to the teen. Salazar quickly scribbled his question on the paper.

"It's a statue. It seems to be a likeness to some sort of mythical creature." Rowena replied, eyes fixed on the majestic statue. Her eyes darted to Salazar as he strode towards the statue, reaching out one hand. He placed his outstretched hand on the statue, drawn to it as if it were a magnet, pulling at him from deep within his soul.

_**He Knew.**_

"Place your hands on the statue." Salazar's voice was raspy and warped, but it was English all the same. The three rushed over, shock evident on their faces. Ever since his awakening, Salazar had been able to speak only in Parseltongue, one of the main reasons that he had been discovered. Godric all but ran up to the statue, amazed at the object which was so powerful that it had given Salazar back his speech. As he touched the statue along with the two others, he finally understood the world. As the four stood around the statue, darkness enveloped the world.

**He stood alone again. He had created his brethren many years ago, as his arms and his legs. They could move, whereas he was stuck eternally in one form. He had created each, and given each a unique name. They had stood beside him for millennia, absorbing the knowledge which he had imparted. They understood the world better than any who had lived in it, and yet they were not, they could not be, one with the world which they lived in. He had set them free, in the hopes that they would become a natural part of the world. He knew that they were the ones meant to lead the world, and his selfishness could not keep them there. Now, they were all gone. It should not have mattered. He was timeless; he lived with them in the past, and would reunite with them in the future; his past and his future were both a part of his present. Even so, he could not shake the eternal loneliness which he felt while knowing that he would live without them for many years, had lived without them for many years, and was living without them even at that moment. When those four children seeking knowledge had approached him, he hoped. Imparting his wishes upon them, he was pleased when they fulfilled his dream and protected his beloveds. **

**

* * *

  
**

It was just after dark, about a month after the foursome had discovered the statue. Godric, Helga, and Rowena had situated themselves around a roaring campfire, while Salazar had hidden himself off in a dark corner, a newly carved staff balanced in his hands.

"Join us, Salazar!" Godric called. Salazar looked up from his work, the small silver cross which he had been trying to affix into a groove in his staff dangling from his hand. Sighing, he carefully placed the staff against the tree, hung the cross on a chain around his neck, and walked over.

"What is it that you require of me?" Salazar's words still came out warped, but his speech had definitely improved since the day when he had first regained his ability to speak English. Unsurprisingly, Rowena was the one to answer him.

"We were discussing what we should do next. The statue gave us its knowledge, but no specific directive to which we should follow."

"Let's save the other refugees! I'm sure that there are a lot more of us, and if we were to band together, we would become more powerful than all of Europe combined!" Godric replied, his eyes lighting up with eagerness.

"And where would we keep all of these people?" Salazar smirked as Godric failed to answer him. "Do you understand? Life is not so simple—you must look ahead."

"I know" Helga chimed in, "We can build them a school. After all, we have the knowledge." A shining realization dawned upon them.

"It's perfect! With a system of education, we could possible even become an organized society of witches and wizards." Rowena added, her eyes lighting up at the mere thought of being able to educate those who were still lost.

"And with the barrier around this sacred area, none of the normal townspeople will be aware of us." Salazar contributed, his voice laden with barely suppressed interest.

"Excellent! Those dumb muggles will have no idea what's going on!" Godric's statement was met with silence.

"Muggles?" Rowena coughed out, a trace of humor in her tone. Godric's face reddened under the amused stares of the other three.

"I think it's a nice word!" Helga defended, embarrassed for her brother. "What does it mean?"

"Well, I heard father use it once when referring to a captured renegade." Godric mumbled, his face turning even redder. "I thought it would be ironic if we used it to refer to them instead." He searched the others' faces, looking for any signs of approval.

"Muggle it is, then." Salazar expressed his satisfaction, causing Godric to smile brightly.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was built on that very spot, the gargoyle serving as its cornerstone. For years, the Founders worked, not only building the school but also gathering the renegade wizards, until, on the first day of the year 1000, Hogwarts opened her doors to students for the very first time. Exactly 600 years later, the castle would lose the source of its power. The ancient gargoyle was stolen, and would not be seen again for many years. Nearly a thousand years after the school first opened, the world would go through a change so drastic, so impossible, that it would shake the foundations of the entire society and either destroy or save the world on the brink of disaster.

**Hi everyone! I had something to say here, but I can't seem to remember it…**

**The next chapter will begin Harry's story. This chapter doesn't really have much do to with the plot of the story, but it will provide general background info for the rest of the story… **

**Furthermore, while this isn't Vampire!Harry, he will be something similar to a vampire… **

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Antique in the Future

'_thinking'_

**:Parsel:**

**Hi everybody! You must be shocked that I'm updating so soon after the first chapter ******** It's not like me, I know… This is a celebration! AP Exams are over! Yay!**

**Gargoyle Ch 1  
**

For his entire life, Harry Potter, resident Boy-Who-Lived, had kept two very important secrets. The first, if revealed, would explain why the sixteen-year-old boy was collapsed on the only occupied bed in the Gryffindor Common Room, choked sobs wracking the teen's body from behind the tightly shut curtains. The second secret, if revealed, would explain why a young child, no older than ten years of age, was sitting on the end of the bed, Potter's head nestled in his lap, hands running through the teen's hair as he comforted the boy.

Outside of their sanctuary, crystals of powdery white snow dusted the windows and glided down to cover the ground below. It was the night before Christmas break began, and Dumbledore had made the untimely announcement that all students would be required to return to their homes for the holidays, due to the required bicentennial maintenance on the wards. A snowflake touched the windowpane in a brief mockery of a kiss before melting, unnoticed by the room's only occupants.

"Hush, little one. I will not allow any monsters, human or otherwise, to harm you." The child's whisper echoed through the room, and Harry's tense figure relaxed slightly at the sound of the light voice.

To an outside eye, the pair's situation may have seemed comical. The small boy held Harry with the gentle hands of a father, and Harry in turn relaxed in the touch as a child would have done to the comforting touch of a mentor.

"I can't go back there, Lucifer." Harry pulled out of the child, Lucifer's embrace. "I have become too weak to withstand their advances." The child's milky white eyes seemed to darken.

"Has it really gotten that bad?"

"Even worse." Harry knew Lucifer like the back of his hand, just as Lucifer could read him with a single glance. It was easy to tell that the normally stoic boy was troubled by his words. Lucifer's internal struggle was so obvious that Harry doubted that Ron would have been unable to see that something was wrong with him. That is, if Ron had known of Lucifer's existence.

"I can make the pain go away." A small tongue swept over dry lips as Lucifer's nervousness was betrayed. "I can give you the strength to fight the Dursleys' advances, if you so wish." A gasp escaped Harry's lips, as he realized just what Lucifer was planning to do.

"You can't mean—"

"I do. When you were a mere two-year old babe, one who believed with all of his might that he was an unnatural freak, I swore that I would protect you from this pain. Many times now, I have failed you. I know now that the power I'm willing to give you will not destroy you. I know now that the power I'm willing to give you may save your life."

"I can't—"

"I am tired, my friend. I have seen all that I wished to in this world. I am the eldest of my brethren, the one who fathered the three children who became the first vampires. Even they no longer walk this earth beside me. In all of my years, I have never met a person more worthy than you of becoming my heir." Harry let out a strangled laugh as his swollen eyes widened in realization.

"Is it possible… that you planned to ask me from the start? Is that why you told me all those tales of your kind, the history and law of the immortal Dreizehn?"

"I knew. I knew you were the one who would become my heir, from the very first day that I found you." Harry smiled as he rubbed at his reddened eyes.

"I see. If that's the truth, then I accept your proposal." Power whipped through the room, throwing Harry off the bed and onto the floor, disappearing as quickly as it had come.

"Thank you, my friend. I will need a few days, to prepare the necessary offerings for the ceremony." Lucifer watched his young charge's reaction closely, pleased to find that the boy showed no outward sign of disappointment, a trait which would be vital in the future.

"So I'll have to—" Harry's throat closed up, causing his sentence to end in an undignified squeak.

"Unfortunately so. You will have to board the train tomorrow, and return to the Dursleys once more."

"Will you—" Lucifer was gone, and not a second passed before Ron burst into the room.

"Who you talking to, mate?" Harry shook his head.

"Nobody." He replied. _'Nobody of your concern, anyway.'_

_

* * *

  
_

Harry sighed as he heaved his trunk into the compartment above his seat. Ron had, of course, been almost impossible to wake, and the 'Golden Trio' had ended up sprinting down to the train station exactly one minute prior to the departure time. Just as he sat down, Ron's flushed face appeared in the doorway.

"Hey mate. Listen, me n 'Mione found a nice empty compartment, so do you mind if we pop in a bit later?" That was odd, Harry frowned, the pair hadn't been dating to his knowledge. In fact, Harry was almost sure that Hermione was still exchanging letters with Viktor Krum.

"Are you two dating?" A look of horror crossed Ron's face.

"Right! I wasn't supposed to tell you… Bloody hell, 'Mione's gonna kill me!" At this point, Harry found himself eternally grateful for the anger management skills that Lucifer had pounded into him.

"It's alright, just go. " Elsewhere on the train, first year Hufflepuff Jamie Parker burst into tears as the window next to her shattered. When an older student poked his head in to ask her what was wrong, she pointed to the window with a shaking hand, only to find that it had mysteriously repaired itself.

When Ron and Hermione finally returned to Harry's compartment, they were surprised to find the boy wonder deeply engrossed in a thick heavy tome, The Origin of the Vampyr, which looked suspiciously like it had been nicked from one of the more dangerous sections of the library at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

"Harry, we're back. Are we interrupting you?" Hermione asked politely, if only for the sake of keeping the peace after Ron had gone and blabbed about them to Harry. The boy was known for having quite a temper, and she was surprised that he hadn't already blown up at them.

"No." Harry replied easily, putting the book aside. "It's my second time reading it, and the whole book is complete hogwash anyways."

Hermione picked up the book, examining the cover. "I've heard of this book! It's considered to be the most accurate account on vampires in existence! The author's brother was a vampire, one who told him the true history of vampires!" Harry bit back a laugh.

"'Mione, that book is just about the farthest thing from the truth possible. The guy's brother probably made the whole thing up for his own amusement."

"And how would you know that?" She challenged, affronted. "It's not like you would know the history of vampires, Mister I-Would-Rather-Fly-Around-On-A-Broom-Instead-of-Picking-Up-A-Book-For-Once-in-My-Life." Harry sighed in exasperation.

_"It helps that I know the man who fathered the first three vampires. I've heard the tale of the origin of vampires, as well as the habits of their community and the truths of their loyalties. I know how to control them and will soon be able to do so myself." _Harry sighed. He couldn't say that aloud, for risk of being thought insane, or worse, discovered. "I don't know that." He droned in a bored voice. "I was merely voicing my opinion." She seemed satisfied, good. "Now what's this about you two hiding your relationship from me? Surely you didn't think that I would be against it, did you?"

Hermione sent the nastiest glare that Harry had ever seen towards Ron. Was Harry sensing some trouble in paradise? He had known from the look on her face that he had informed her of his mistake before, so what was the reason for that glare?

"We didn't want you to feel left out, Harry." Hermione's tone was sweet, but Harry could almost feel the taut thread of irritation ready to snap in her voice. He weighed his options. He could either pursue the matter, at the expense of sounding immature, or he could drop it entirely and enjoy the peace for a little while longer. Harry opted for the second one.

"Alright, I believe you." He inwardly laughed at the shocked look which seemed to be stuck on Hermione's face. Of course she would have expected a fight from him. "Now, 'Mione, I've got a really important question for you. It's something I've always wondered about, and I think you're the only one who would tell me." Hermione leaned in eagerly, her face lighting up at a chance to show off her superior knowledge. "Is Ron a fire crotch?" A blank look crossed her face, before it turned bright red, mirroring the color of Ron's face.

"Harry!" he smirked as he hid his face in another of the heavy tomes which lay at his feet. Mission accomplished.

* * *

When the Dursleys didn't show up at the train station, Harry knew that the following days would be incredibly painful. An hour after the train had arrived at King's Cross station, Harry stood outside of Number Four, Privet Drive, a few pounds poorer and soaking wet. Taking a hold of the school trunk which the cabby had just tossed out of the car, Harry gritted his teeth and struggled over to the door.

His hand rose to the knocker, only to have the door open. A very pissed off Aunt Petunia stood in the doorway, waving him in. Uncle Vernon snatched his trunk out of numb fingers, directing Harry to the kitchen as he locked the trunk securely in the cupboard under the stairs.

The night passed fairly peacefully, and Harry found himself with only a few cuts and bruises after one of Vernon's kinder "anger management" sessions. The very next day, Dudley's girlfriend broke up with him.

* * *

The stench in the room was close to unbearable, Lucifer noted. He scanned the room quickly, eyeing the jagged whip hung on the door and the rusty, blood encrusted knives scattered all over the floor. In a split second, he had every exit marked and had placed avoidance charms on all the doors.

Walking over to the corner, he touched a hand to a pile of bloody rags, murmuring a word under his breath. The rags shifted, and a pair of dulled green eyes peered up at him. How it pained him to see the lack of light in those eyes.

"They did it. I couldn't stop them." He pulled the boy into his arms, rocking him back and forth.

"I'm so sorry." Harry's trembling hands wrapped around one of his.

"Do it." It was the only way in which Harry would be able to survive this hellhole, and Lucifer had only an hour before the moon would fall directly above the small house.

Lucifer cleared the room, taking care to remove all bloodstains from the floor. He walked in a distinct pattern, forming three circles; one large circle connected to two smaller ones in a way that the smaller circles would not touch each other. He pulled a small pebble out of a vial of clear water and placed it in the center of the large circle, before taking two silver daggers and placing one inside each of the smaller circles. Helping Harry up, he walked the boy over to one of the invisible circles, before heading to the other one.

The Westminster clock which graced the upper hallway of the Dursleys' home tolled. The pattern glowed a blinding silver.

The clock tolled a second time, and the silver light dimmed to a faint glow, outlining the circle. The pebble placed in the larger circle seemed to absorb some of the light, and it too glowed a light pulsing silver.

A third toll resounded through the room. Lucifer picked up the silver knife and cut his wrist open, allowing blood to fall on the spot where the smaller circle met the large one.

On the fourth toll, Harry picked up the identical dagger in front of him and repeated his mentor's actions. His vision swam before him as a copious amount of blood poured out of the wound.

On the fifth toll, the circle glowed red, the color of spilt blood.

On the sixth toll, a stream of blood made its way towards the center from each of the circles, enveloping the pebble in an eerie red glow.

On the seventh toll, the room filled with light, and the two smaller circles connected. _'That was strange'_ Harry mused, noticing that the circles, although connected, had not moved an inch.

The eighth toll nearly took Harry's ears out. He could swear they were getting louder. Lucifer's voice cut through the silence that followed each toll.

"I renounce you of your name. Do you accept this loss?"

The ninth toll.

"I accept."

The tenth. The next two would just be—

"I offer you my family in return. Do you accept the responsibility of becoming my heir?"His eyes whipped around to meet those of his mentor. Lucifer had told him that the last two lines of the ritual were rarely used, as they formed an unnecessary parental bond between the two participants.

The eleventh toll.

"I accept."

The twelfth toll burst his eardrums and stopped his heart. The vibrations from the powerful sound shredded his eyes and burst the sensitive veins in his nose. His skin peeled, and his throat felt like it had been torn apart.

The pain disappeared, and He found that He could breath again, _although_, his mind whispered, _he no longer had to._

"You have died and been born anew, and have been stripped of your name. As your father, I shall name you. You shall carry the name Loki, the clever Trickster. You shall be named Raphael, for you are purer than any other. Finally, you shall have the name Zuerst, for We were the First and you shall carry on Our legacy. In the last moments of immortality, I grant you the name of Loki Raphael Zuerst. In the name of Erin Lucifer Zuerst, let it be done. May the name serve you well." Lucifer held a silver goblet to his new son, a goblet containing the pure essence of his tears. He—Raphael refused it. He was fully aware of what the goblet of tears would do, and he would rather suffer the pain of a "dry" transformation than drink his father's tears at the expense of the man's life. Pushing the goblet away, He found himself falling into a sea of fire, and he was unable to break the surface. And so it was that his entire life dissolved before his eyes. He never saw the shocked look on Lucifer's face as his soul separated from his body and disappeared in a burst of flame. It was fated, and nothing could stop the inevitable.

* * *

**So.. .who can guess where Harry's soul's gone? =]**

**I know the** **ritual is pretty long and seems unnecessary, but it will be very important at the end of the story~! So keep what happens in the ritual in mind :D**

**Notes:**

**Fire crotch=red down below o.o**

**There is a reason that both Raphael (Harry) and Lucifer refer to themselves by their middle names. If you can guess it you get a hug ******

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Until next time! **

**EterNite**


	3. History of the Other Side

**From this point on, depending on the point of view of the speaker, Harry will be called either Harry or Raphael. I have guidelines to when I call him which, but it's confusing even to me so I wont bother going into detail.**

**OMG! It's Tomtime! YAAAY!!! :D Tom-Harphael interaction this chapter :D  
**

**:Parsel:**

'_thinking'_

**Gargoyle 2  
**

As Harry came to his senses, he found himself immersed in chilly water, ripe with vegetation. Now, Harry had only swum a few times before, the last of which being during the Triwizard Tournament during fourth year, so when a tough piece of seaweed managed to wrap itself around his foot, he found himself being dragged down into the dark depths below.

Harry was positive that his lungs were numb. He pulled and struggled against the firm grip of the seaweed attached to his right ankle, but to no avail. He was still weak from the ritual, and soon he could struggle no longer but only allow the bitter water to fill his lungs as he sunk to the bottom.

* * *

On the surface, Tom Riddle had been enjoying his free time curled up against a large cherry tree, dozing lightly with a book in hand. He never heard the splash as a green eyes teen fell from the sky and into the lake, very nearly splashing him with water. Hours passed before he woke, just as the sun began to set.

**:Scius, how long was I asleep?:** he hissed to the young water snake who he knew lived on the edge of the lake.

**:It is not yet feeding time for the two leggers.: **The snake responded.

**:So I have time then. Have you heard anything interesting lately, my friend?:** Many students would often spill their secrets by the lake, and sometimes, the information which was passed on to him by Scius could be very useful.

**:Of course not. Nobody ever comes to the lake when you're here. Although…:** The snake trailed off.

**:Yes?:** Tom prompted.

**:A two legger fell in the lake while you were asleep. He's on the bottom, sleeping.: **Tom's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Many times before he had been blamed for inflicting injuries which he had not been responsible for, and Dumbledore had always kept a watchful eye on him. If a student had drowned in the lake, while Tom was present no less, there was no doubt who the blame would go to.

Quickly stripping down to his boxers, Tom dived into the lake in one smooth motion. Years of swimming in the lake during the warmer spring months of the year had gotten him accustomed to the murky water, but nothing could shake off the chill of the winter.

**:Show me where the two legger is.: **Tom demanded. Scius eased himself into the lake and took off, gliding gracefully through the water. About three meters from the edge, she dived down, Tom following closely behind. At the very bottom, a young man lay still, pale as ice.

As quickly as he could, Tom rose up for a breath of air and got to work untangling the boy from the weeds which had wrapped themselves around him. Two more breaths later, Tom dragged the boy to the surface, holding him tightly by the arm.

**:You know, Tom:** Scius hissed, **:It is probably not best for you to handle the two legger so roughly. He seems delicate.:** Leveling a glare at the snake, yet loosening his grip anyway, Tom hefted the small body out of the water.

Tom lay a hand against the boy's throat, there was no pulse. A quick spell removed the water from the boy's lungs, but there was no spell to restart a heartbeat. He would have to do it the muggle way.

Tom covered the other's lips with his own, breathing air into the other's body, before raising his head and pressing his hands down against the other boy's chest in two quick pushes. His head went down again, and just as his lips hovered over the other's, brilliant emerald eyes snapped open and stared directly into his own red ones.

A moment passed where neither boy moved, and Harry's mind was going a mile a minute. Why in the world was Tom Riddle giving him CPR, and for that matter, why in the world did Tom Riddle exist?

"Good, you're alive." Tom schooled his face into an impassive mask as he rose, offering a hand to the other boy. Harry took the offered hand, pulling himself up easily.

"Yes, I suppose I am. From what I discerned, I have you to thank for that?" Tom glared at the boy.

"Tell nobody about… what I did. Who are you anyway? I know the faces of each student in this school, and you're not one of them." Harry chose to ignore that question, earning himself another glare from Riddle.

"Tempus"

5:08 PM

September 28th

1948

"Well? Are you going to answer my question?" Tom demanded, irritation creeping up on him.

"Oh, yes. I suppose—I suppose I am a transfer student." The emerald-eyed boy smiled cryptically and strode off towards the castle. It was only after the boy was out of sight that Tom realized that the boy had never resumed breathing.

* * *

_'How could you have been so stupid? You're a Dreizehn now, you don't have to breathe anymore! Imagine what Lucifer would think, seeing you pass out like that.' _Harry berated himself as he stalked through the crowded halls. As he glanced around, Harry realized that not much had changed from the Hogwarts of his time, save some small changes in the uniforms. The boys work dark slacks and a black vest barely visible under their robes, while the girls wore checkered skirts which reached passed their knees. In Harry's time, the skirts had been shorter, and the uniforms had often been disregarded in favor of a more comfortable pair of jeans under their robes.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts when a bony hand wrapped around his arm, squeezing him roughly. He whirled around to see a younger, graying Dumbledore staring back at him.

"Hello, my dear boy." Dumbledore's smiling face and cheerful attitude would have been deceiving, if not for the vice like grip of the hand still restraining his arm. "You are not a student here, may I ask why you are on Hogwarts grounds?" Harry easily shook free of the grasp, ignoring the strange look that flicked across Dumbledore's face.

"I was looking for the headmaster. I intend to transfer to this school, and I need to discuss the details of this with him." Dumbledore clapped his hands in glee. "I believe I'm a bit lost." He added to assure his safety.

"Well isn't that just wonderful! Come with me." Harry followed his future headmaster through the corridors. As they rounded the corner, the gargoyle statue which hid the headmaster's office came into sight. Upon seeing the pair, the gargoyle bowed, seemingly to Harry, and the passage opened.

"How strange." Dumbledore frowned. "It's never done that before." The man strode up the stairs, Harry following after. "The gargoyle must have been expecting you. For future references, and keep in mind that I'm only telling you this because you're a transfer student, the password is 'Dolphin'. Most students don't know this, so don't go spreading it around." They reached the door to the office, and Dumbledore quickly opened the door and hurried the boy in, not bothering, Harry noticed, to knock first.

"Hello, Albus. Who is this young boy that you have brought to me?" Harry's mind raced.

"My name is… Raphael Zuerst. A transfer student." Yes, his real name would work just fine. His only problem would be avoiding the notice of the Dreizehn.

Headmaster Dippet's eyes darkened. "And what country are you transferring from?"

"Germany." _'Homeland of the Dreizehn'_ Harry added to himself.

"Headmaster, we can't possibly allow a German student into Hogwarts!" Harry wished he could hit himself. He hadn't taken a course in Muggle history in years, but how could he have forgotten that World War II and the Holocaust had only ended a few years ago. Of course they would be suspicious of a German transfer student.

"My father was killed because the government found out that he was a wizard." Harry responded coldly, applauding himself on his acting skills. The headmaster sent a sympathetic look his way.

"See, Albus? He won't cause any trouble. Now, If you don't mind, I have to discuss the details of his transfer with him. I'm sure you have papers to grade." Dumbledore gave Harry a harsh stare, sending chills down his spine.

"I believe I do. Good day, headmaster." Dumbledore left without another word, and it was not until his footsteps were out of range of even Harry's enhanced hearing that the headmaster spoke again.

"Is there anything else you would like to say?" The headmaster asked. Harry weighed his options. For the Dreizehn, blood was a necessary form of nourishment until they reached full maturity, which usually took about a year. There was no way he could go around attacking normal students, not with Dumbledore already suspicious of him. Sighing, he resigned himself to his dismal fate.

"I'll need a secrecy vow to answer that." The man nodded.

"I'll swear the vow. On my magic, I swear that I will never reveal any of the information which is revealed in this room." A light glow surrounded the two, disappearing as quickly as it had come.

"I'm a…vampire, and I need an adequate source of food."

"That's not a problem, child. We have housed vampires before, and have a ready supply of blood thirst suppressing potions on hand." Harry winced. The Dreizehn could only survive off of pure human blood. Thirst potions and animal blood would not hurt him, but they would make him feel rather sick.

"I'm allergic." He responded. The headmaster frowned.

"I suppose we could get you some animal—" Harry quickly cut him off.

"It makes me sick." Dippet glared.

"I suppose I have no choice."

"What?"

Dippet opened his mouth, releasing an unearthly song which reverberated around the room, almost visible in its sheer power. Harry immediately recognized it to be the Eleventh Melody of the Song of the Dreizehn. It was a song imprinted in the very soul of each Dreizehn, which could control any of the children of the Drei, namely, the vampires. The song had an intense lure which no Dreizehn could resist. After mere seconds, Harry gave in and added his own voice to the song, the First Melody.

"Impossible.." Dippet whispered, his eyes widening. "Lord Lucifer?" Harry's eyes glowed.

"He is my father."

"But Lucifer has not lost his immortality. How can you be his son?" Harry shot the headmaster an unnerving smile.

"I was somehow sent to the past on the day of my changing. I fell into the lake and collapsed from exhaustion. I have not finished my schooling as of yet, and I believe that Hogwarts would be the ideal place to stay at, as I must research what sent me here, and how I could get home." Dippet gave a nod of approval at the boy's intellect.

"I am afraid that I do not know the reason you were sent to the past, but I will inform our librarian, Mrs. Traehart, that you are allowed access to the books in the Restricted Section for research purposes. As for now, welcome to Hogwarts, young Lord." Harry nodded.

"So you will permit me to attend? What about my blood?" Dippet now understood the boy's request. Dreizehn had to drink a certain amount of blood until they matured, and as he remembered from his own experience, anything other than pure human blood would make the boy sick.

"I cannot allow you to drink from our students or staff without consent." Harry opened his mouth to protest, only to be cut off by Dippet. "However, if somebody willingly offers you their blood, you may drink from them."

"I suppose that is acceptable." Harry replied, standing to leave. As his hand touched the decorated brass doorknob, he paused, turning to look Dippet directly in the eye. "Out of mere curiosity, what is your true name?"

"Michael Elft." Harry nodded and swung the door open. Michael watched as Raphael Zuerst disappeared down the stairs, seemingly fading into the shadows which each Drei controlled. _'How is it possible'_ he wondered, _'for thirteen Drei to be alive at once?'_ Little did he know, Harry was wondering the same exact thing.

* * *

The rest of the day, whispered rumors of a transfer student had worn Tom's patience thin. As a result, Tom decided to avoid dinner altogether, instead heading towards the kitchens. To both his delight and his frustration, he stepped through the portrait which guarded the kitchen only to find the topic of the entire school's interest sitting on a spindly stool near the fire, sipping tea.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to wait for dinner?" Tom jumped. The boy hadn't even turned around. _'How did he know I was behind him?'_ he wondered.

"I wasn't planning on attending." Tom replied. The boy twisted to face him, a slightly wicked look dancing in his bright emerald eyes.

"In that case, would you care to join me?" Tom nodded, restraining his surprise when another stool popped into existence beside the boy. Tom walked over and gingerly took a seat, being careful to keep a suspicious eye on the other boy, who, it appeared, had remembered to start breathing again.

"Fishy," The boy called to a nearby house elf, who Tom noted proudly wore a novelty fish hat atop its head. "Could you get something hot for Tom here?" Tom frowned. _'How did he learn my name?'_ The elf was watching him nervously.

"Just a cup of Earl Grey, if you could." The house elf squeaked. Tom Riddle visited the kitchens often, and although she had never served him before, he was not known for his patience.

"Right away Master Riddle!" Fishy scrambled away, returning with a delicate porcelain cup in hand, two other elves carrying an ornate tower of finger sandwiches and cakes between them.

"They must trust you." The boy commented as Tom took the cup, balancing it between his hands. He raised one eyebrow in an aristocratic arch. "They gave me Styrofoam." He lifted his cup slightly, showing Tom the white disposable cup. Tom smirked.

"They know I won't accept anything less than the best." For some reason, this caused the other boy's lips to twitch up in resemblance of a smile, as if remembering something familiar.

"I see."

Absently stirring his tea, Tom glanced at the other boy. A lock of glossy black hair fell loose from his long braid, covering his face. Almost habitually, he pushed the stray hairs behind his ear, tugging slightly on his right earlobe. The amber glow of the tea reflected in his emerald eyes, rendering them an almost jade color, as he stared, captivated, into its depth.

"You're looking much less waterlogged." Tom joked in an attempt to break the silence that had descended. "I don't think I got your name earlier. Actually, I don't think I told you mine, either. How did you know it?" Tom felt oddly triumphant as a spark of amusement flashed through the boy's eyes.

"I have my ways" he said, his voice as light and smooth as it had been before, and yet somehow richer with amusement. "My name is Raphael Zuerst."

"Tom Riddle, but you knew that already, right?" The boy, Raphael, smirked.

"But of course." He glanced at the clock which hung above the mantel. "Would you mind accompanying me to the Great Hall? I'm to make my grand entrance tonight, and without a guide, I might just get lost." Tom had an odd feeling that the boy wouldn't have gotten lost at all.

"I would be honored." He replied, slipping off his stool and holding out a single elegant hand to the amused boy beside him.

**YAY! I researched Styrofoam, and it DID exist in '48 so THERE =] Dunno if they used it for cups yet though… they probably did :D**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! **


	4. Color Me Blood Red

**Chapter 4**

That night, something seemed out of place in the Great Hall. There was just something extra in the room that shouldn't have been there. Each child's eyes; brightened by the innocence of youth; were drawn to the magnificently dull object. Each of the adults seated at the head table seemed to be skillfully avoiding it's lure, choosing instead to rest their tired eyes on the visages of the children below.

At the head of the hall, perched upon a majestic marble pedestal which greatly emphasized its glory—or lack thereof; was the Sorting Hat. Despite the queerness of the situation, it was not this that confused the students. No, even though many of them had never seen the Sorting Hat except for on the Feast of the Firsties ( a name that some of the older Sytherin students had adopted from Peeves the Poltergeist), it was not surprising for it to be present with the rumors of a new transfer student flying around as rumors often did. What was strange was that none of the teachers had acknowledged, or even given mention of the hat up until that point in time. The students were itching to see the new addition to their ranks, and if one listened closely, they could hear select students muttering their wishes for the teachers to just 'get on with it'.

As if pandering to these students wishes, two dark figures appeared in the entrance to the Great Hall, striding into the hall at a deliberate pace. All eyes, even those of the teachers, were drawn to the pair. Standing next to the school's coldest heartthrob, Tom Riddle, was a smaller, thinner boy. Let it not be said, however, that one so small and thin could not be beautiful. In fact, the boy was almost ethereal, in how the loosely braided hair fell loose to settle on his shoulders; in how his piercing green eyes seemed able to delve into the soul and unearth its deepest secrets; in how his pale skin seemed to glow with some unseen power. He was the type of person who would either be worshiped or avoided. From the company he kept, it was expected that he would receive both admiration and avoidance from his fans.

As Tom Riddle flashed an eerie smile towards the alleged transfer student, Dippet rose, drawing only a faint response from the entranced students.

"May I have the attention of this captivated audience?" Dippet's voice seemed to break the students out of their trance, giving him the full attention of the Hall. "I would like to introduce our new transfer student, Raphael Zuerst. He will be entering the sixth year, and as such, will be sorted tonight. His past and reasons for transferring are his own, and I trust that none of you will bother him about these matters." As Dippet spoke, Dumbledore retrieved the Sorting Hat from its' pedestal and dropped it unceremoniously onto the new boy's head.

Whatever the students had expected, it was not this. As the Sorting Hat was lowered down upon the boy's head, a hush descended over the crowd. A few minutes passed, the Hat seemingly frozen in place, and then...

A piercingly inhumane shriek filled the hall as the pedestal on which the hat had stood shattered into a million tiny fragments. The unholy sound was cut off as suddenly as it had started, and the students cautiously uncovered their ears. In a tired, broken voice, the hat crowed out its' decision.

"_Slytherin"_

None of the students dared to move as the boy handed the hat back to an impassive Dumbledore and glided with a slow, deliberate stride over to the Slytherin table, at which he immediately took his place in the seat directly next to Tom Riddle. It was commonly known among the Slytherins that the seat next to Riddle was reserved for his second in command, but nobody tried to stop the obviously powerful boy. They watched with obvious trepidation, wondering if even the great Tom Riddle would dare to go against this intimidating being. To their utmost surprise, their esteemed leader smiled with a warmth that the whole of Slytherin had never thought possible, and offered the new student a plate of piping hot mashed potatoes. This seemed to break the silence and the entire room burst into action.

Dumbledore hurried out of the room with the exhausted Sorting Hat in hand, no doubt to return it to the headmaster's office. One of the teachers—Harry wasn't sure of their names yet—could be heard muttering to herself about how a simple stool would be so much more efficient than that gaudy and expensive pedestal, eliciting much amusement on Harry's part as he remembered the three-legged stool which had served as host to the Sorting Hat in his time. A few of the younger Hufflepuffs began to cry, as the older ones reached in to comfort them; the Ravenclaws immediately started coming up with possible scenarios to explain what had just happened, and the Gryffindors began throwing their dirtiest looks his way. At the Slytherin table, Harry and Tom exchanged a triumphant look, and Harry was quickly drawn into conversation with the rest of the sixth year Slytherins. Harry smiled. So this was what true acceptance felt like.

* * *

"Inferno." The portrait leading to the Slytherin dormitories opened at Tom's voice, and the silent pair stepped into the Common Room. Harry kept his cold mask in place, his piercing eyes surveying the Common Room, looking everywhere except Tom's face. The other boy confused him; made him drop his guard; left him weak. After the feast he had walked for a while in relative peace with the other boy, but a near slip-up had induced unwanted questions, and he had closed himself up.

"Each room hosts two students," Tom informed him, his eyes directed somewhere over Harry's left shoulder, "I am the Prefect for the sixth year Slytherins, and am in charge of getting you accustomed. As such, you will be rooming with me. Head down the stairs to the right, and it's the door at the very end of the hall. Your luggage will be waiting for you in the room."

Harry raised a single eyebrow.

"Right. Typical prefect speech, I know. The teachers give the prefects a card at the beginning of each year through which they dictate what to tell the students. We have no free will. I suppose one of the teachers will bring you to Diagon Alley for supplies at some point, they always do." Tom replied, reading Harry's expression perfectly.

"Thank you." Raphael descended the stairs and headed towards the far room. Wincing at the portrait of a very obese cat which hung off the last door, and looking wistfully at the portrait of two young snakes which hung on the door opposite the room, his hand reached for the doorknob.

Upstairs, Tom prayed that his whimsical plan would get the mysterious Raphael to open up to him once again. Two muffled yells pierced the silence in the Common Room, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. Tom smirked, eagerly awaiting the look on Raphael's face when he rushed up the stairs.

It didn't come. Tom froze. He was sure that he had sent Harry to the room of the other sixth year Prefect, Emeraude Genoux, who roomed with her extremely amorous boyfriend, Claude Malfoy. He also knew that they had retired early, so why hadn't Raphael run up the stairs in the horror at the gruesome sight. Had Tom misjudged him?

Arms as cold as ice settled around his shoulders and wrapped him in a deadly embrace. A pair of cold lips moved against his ear.

"And just why, Mister Riddle," Tom could feel Raphael's cold eyes boring into his head, "did you decide to send me to the room of what I assume was a pair of very happy newlyweds?"

* * *

Nightmares plagued Harry's dreams.

As long as he could remember, terrifying dreams had haunted him in his sleep. When he had, in his fifth year, begun to experience Death Eater meetings and torture sessions on some nights, it had come as a welcome relief from the horrors of his own mind. Even the pain of every Crucio that Voldemort cast was nothing compared to the terrors which had haunted him in reality and in sleep. Pity now, that Voldemort was not yet himself, and there would be no Death Eater meetings to grant him a relative peace.

It was the first night that Harry had spent in the past, and something was drastically different. He was a Dreizehn.

He twisted and turned in the messy silk sheets, his unnecessary breath coming in quick pants, his eyes darting about underneath pale eyelids. He ran on air, desperately trying to escape his uncle's grasp. Words stood out in red against the walls, carving themselves in his flesh as he fell, losing complete control as he headed towards his uncle's leering face. His shoulders split open and a pair of black wings burst from the bleeding mess. He flapped them with all his strength, but found himself spiraling towards the ground at an even faster rate, one giant wing raised above his head, the other hanging limply at his side, mangled by some unseen force.

Harry woke up silently, tears of horror streaming down his face. He sat up, the silk sheets pooling at his waist, dumping a pile of black feathers onto the floor. He slid off the bed without even a whisper of a sound, gracefully gliding over to the window. Poking his head out of the seemingly pointless window, he was surprised to find himself staring out over the green landscapes of Hogwarts. It seemed that the Slytherin dorms were situated in a tower, much like the Gryffindor dorms had been.

Harry's first thought was that the dorms had been moved since his current time, but he quickly dismissed that thought. The entrance to which Tom had led him had been exactly the same as the entrance which he had found during his second year at Hogwarts. After a few minutes of pondering the subject, he concluded that the entrance must be a portal which led to elsewhere, but it would be wise to ask Tom when he had the chance.

A glint of silver caught Harry's eye. Stuck to his hand was a glossy black feather, its' stem a metallic silver. A few more were stuck to various places around his body, and by a glance around the room, he could see that the feathers were everywhere, even daring to form a mockery of a blanket over Tom, whose actual blanket had fallen to the floor sometime during the night.

Had the feathers come from him? Harry had seen Lucifer fly before, but the man had informed him that he knew of no other Drei who had ever sprouted wings.

Well, there was no harm... almost no harm in trying.

With one last glance towards where Tom was sleeping, Harry leaped out the window and spread his arms as the wind whipped around him. Just as he began to fall, a pair of black wings burst from his back, each spanning a length of about ten meters.

As the first strains of dawn began to appear, many of the school's earliest risers would claim to have seen a humongous and strange bird joyously sweeping through the air; a shadow against the light of the rising sun.

* * *

**I know Dx I'm sorry!!! I never meant to take so long to update... :( August was a really bad month for me, and I was completely swamped by everything that happened and the work it took to fix what could be fixed :(**

**I hope this chapter is satisfactory to you :O Imagine how Tom will feel when he wakes up covered in feathers, with Harry already gone! :D**

**I'll try to do something with Emerald Shadow next... I want to make the sequel to 100 Days with Mr. Arrogant soon too... :O I'll try to update again soon though~**


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